


blue monsoon

by aozu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/aozu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: <b>16</b> | <i>things you said with no space between us</i></p><blockquote>
  <p>Iwaizumi glares. “Stop this.”</p>
  <p>Oikawa merely hums. “Stop what?”</p>
  <p>“This,” he says, voice flat, with a hint of impatience. “Sleeping in my bed. You have your own bed, use it.”</p>
  <p>The edges of Oikawa’s lips curl into a pout—“But I can’t sleep without you—“</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	blue monsoon

**Author's Note:**

> Three things:  
> 1) I have a (not so) secret let-me-please-punch-him relationship with Oikawa,  
> 2) I’ve never written Iwaoi and  
> 3) I’ve pretty much forgotten Haikyuu canon, pls bear with my characterisations based off vague memories and fanfic impressions
> 
> Special thanks to everbad on tumblr who beta-ed my usual horrible grammar.

When Iwaizumi wakes, he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He resists the urge to jam his elbow backwards into the person that’s spooning him suction tight from behind around the waist, complete with even slow breaths on his nape. It’s not the first time that he’s woken up like this and he highly doubts it’ll be the last, considering that he has yelled at Oikawa to stop invading his bed in the middle of the night for _months_ now and it hasn’t stopped.

He didn’t think there would be much problem being Oikawa’s roommate when they entered college, to be honest. He has known the setter for enough years to tolerate whatever behaviour the other chooses to put on—during school, out of school, over sleepovers—so there’s nothing much that surprises Iwaizumi anymore, but _this_ sleeping together thing has been slowly rubbing on his nerves since the first night that Oikawa had insisted on it.

 _It’s just like our sleepovers, Iwa-chan!_ Oikawa had prodded and _prodded_ sometime during the first week when classes were still slow and they were playing Tetris battle on his bed and Oikawa refused to get up and there were still traces of winter and the gas heating wasn’t strong enough—and there were a million other reasons that Oikawa kept pushing and spouting and there’s a limit to how much annoyance Iwaizumi can take.

They have slept in the same bed before, there’s nothing particularly unusual about that, but they have _two_ single beds in their dorm and Iwaizumi can’t understand why Oikawa wants to squish in with him every day when the other one is literally across the room. Besides, it’s bleeding into late summer and Iwaizumi is sweating from the sheer heat, not at all helped by the extra body warmth on his back. Or maybe the worst is that Oikawa can never keep his hands to himself while sleeping—Iwaizumi’s sure he’s been molested to hell and back from the way Oikawa’s hands roam, some of it even deliberate, like now.

“Stop moving, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbles near his neck, nuzzling into it while Iwaizumi struggles.

“Dammit—you’re bloody awake already, so let _go_ ,” he huffs, trying to push the other away, but Oikawa holds fast and firm.

“Ehhhh, don’t be mean,” Oikawa whines in that particular tone of his, and Iwaizumi eventually manages to shove him away with his slightly superior strength. “It’s still early, we can cuddle,” Oikawa grins winningly while patting his tousled hair absentmindedly, and this is _another_ reason why Iwaizumi is quickly coming to the end of his long fuse.

Iwaizumi ignores the tease and following chuckles while he storms to the bathroom, feeling more irritated than usual. Oikawa’s always been like that, Iwaizumi knows, the _flirting_ , but lately it’s been hard to brush it off as one of Oikawa’s annoying quirks. Maybe it’s because they’re spending a lot more time together being roommates on top of being teammates and the only reprieve Iwaizumi gets is during his classes.

There’s a limit to how many teasing advances he should suffer from a playboy who’s obviously doing this for his own amusement without any regard for how it feels to _him_ ; sure they’re close, but even best friends _should_ have a boundary, not that it seems to exist with Oikawa. Especially in the dark, when Oikawa whispers cheesy lines into his ear while clinging to him in bed, the feeling up his bare abdomen, the giggling at his nape; it’s hard to believe any of this remains platonic.

It _has_ to be, it’s Oikawa after all, but it keeps nagging at the back of his brain that it’s definitely _not_ —and that leads on to another train of thought that gives him an absolute headache. No, he’s not going down that path so early in the damn morning. He has a full day of classes and volleyball practice after, he needs his mind to be sane.

Of course, that completely fails when he takes off his shirt intending to start his shower and notices that there is a _mark_ on the back of his shoulder near his neck.

“…What the _fuck_ ,” he stares, trying to crane his neck to get a better look in the mirror.

It’s hard to see from his position, but that’s _definitely_ a bite mark and he slams the bathroom door open without a second thought. Oikawa is still lounging happily on his bed, perking up when he returns despite the death glare he’s wearing.

“Decided to join me back in bed shirtless, Iwa-chan? How shameless—“

Iwaizumi grabs him by the front of his shirt, halfway on route to strangle him. “What the hell is this?” he demands instead, jabbing at the mark.

“Oh my,” Oikawa mock gasps. “Illicit relations, Iwa-chan? Who was it? The girl who borrowed your notes last week? Or her friend, the one giving you the heart eyes—”

“Don’t fuck with me, Oikawa!” he growls, shaking the other. “I haven’t been with any—“ he grinds his teeth, because both of them know this. It’s hard to miss when you’re _supposedly_ best friends and living together after all. “I know it’s you, you asshole. What the hell?”

Oikawa laughs. “It means you’re mine, Iwa-chan,” the setter grins, sticking his tongue out.

“Oikawa—“ Iwaizumi starts, absolutely _pissed_ , and it seems that Oikawa is finally aware of that as he scratches the back of his neck, pouting.

“Come on, it’s so small, no one will even notice,” Oikawa says, sounding not at all contrite. “Even if they do, they’ll stop thinking you’re celibate, you know?”

That cheeky grin does the absolute opposite of dampening his fury. “What I do is none of anyone’s business,” Iwaizumi states.

“Always so manly, Iwa-chan,” the setter sighs, leaning his head on his propped up knees.

It’s said with sigh of finality, like a casual end to their conversion, but Iwaizumi knows how Oikawa leads the subject around when the other doesn’t want to be cornered.

“That includes you, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi glares. “Stop this.”

Oikawa merely hums. “Stop what?”

“This,” he says, voice flat, with a hint of impatience. “Sleeping in my bed. You have your own bed, use it.”

The edges of Oikawa’s lips curl into a pout—“But I can’t sleep without you—“

—and Iwaizumi decides that enough is enough. He meets the other’s playful gaze with a hard stare.

“Oikawa. I’m serious.”

Iwaizumi is close enough that he can see Oikawa’s eyes slant a little at his tone. The setter’s expression falls into being a little calculative, eyeing him silently. He chastises Oikawa enough on a daily basis for the other’s terrible flippant behaviour—but Oikawa hasn’t been as terrible as to purposely brush him off when he’s genuinely angry.

But, apparently, this isn’t one of those times.

“Well,” Oikawa says petulantly after a while, casting his gaze away. “So am I.”

Iwaizumi grips his fists tight and tries not to seethe in annoyance. “I’m _not_ one of your playthings, Oikawa.”

He isn’t sure whether it’s because of the _way_ he said it or _what_ he said that Oikawa stares at him for a moment, lips parted. It’s not often that he can shock Oikawa into silence, and there should be a feel of sweet victory to that, but all the times it’s happened it’s only when they’ve fought and he’s only ever felt an immediate sense of guilt with that. The setter meets his eyes and he can’t tell what that clouded expression means, but it’s gone before he can put more thought into it.

 “…I never said you were,” Oikawa replies after a moment, voice completely normal.

Iwaizumi presses his lips together. “So sleep in your own damn bed.”

“Okay,” the other replies, now sounding seemingly disinterested. “Don’t you have class in thirty minutes?” he says after, attention on his nails.

Iwaizumi swears when he looks at the clock on the bedside table. He rushes in and out of the shower and grabs his bag and an apple off the kitchen counter to get out of the door in record time. It doesn’t really register until the second last class of the day when he’s staring out of the window as the professor blabs about something that he really should be listening to, that Oikawa hadn’t made a single remark on how terrible his fashion sense was (all terrible mocking lies) before he left the room— _are you really wearing that shirt with the shoes, oh my god, Iwa-chan, you should at least spare a few minutes to think about that_ —there was no teasing comment about his hair or general laughter at his attempt to stuff his feet into his laced shoes—it had been, well, quiet.

He thinks that maybe he’s offended Oikawa even though _he’s_ the one being offended for the past months, but any sort of guilt is wiped clean during practice when Oikawa gives him that big annoying grin during a water break and yanks his shirt collar back down low.

“What’s this, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa says loudly, with that shit eating smirk. “A _love bite_? Looks like someone was _busy_ last night.”

Iwaizumi nearly dies choking on his water and spends the next ten minutes insisting that it _isn’t_ to his nosy teammates that join in the bandwagon. He nearly strangles Oikawa to death in their room later that night, with the setter annoyingly amused at being strangled. Iwaizumi wonders how he’s ever survived so far and why he has such a terrible person he calls his best friend—but there’s also no mistaking that every now and then he remembers the clouded look Oikawa had in his eyes and the quiet behaviour in the morning after his words. It doesn’t seem like anything has changed other than that, and so he brushes it off, until two hours later, lying in his bed trying to fall asleep, he realises another thing.

It’s weird that Oikawa is in his own bed as promised—it’s too dark to see the other, but Iwaizumi can see the rumpled outline of the comforter back towards him. Iwaizumi would have expected at least one lousy attempt from Oikawa to get his own way, considering that he’d been so stubborn about it before.

It gets even more suspicious when a week passes and Oikawa retreats to his own bed every night without Iwaizumi even saying anything—and Iwaizumi wants to say something about how oddly obedient the other is being about this, but he also doesn’t want to bring it up because Oikawa would just smirk and say _you missed me in your bed, Iwa-chan, I knew it,_ and never return to his own bed again.

He ends up watching Oikawa’s sleeping form during the nights, which he discovers are startling quiet without the nonsense mumbling against his neck. It doesn’t make sense but it’s harder to fall asleep than before, and the glow of his digital clock on his bedside tells him that he’s been falling asleep later and later—it now reads 3 a.m. and he just wants to fall asleep, he’s been lying still for the past three hours staring at the ceiling in silence.

It’s 3 a.m., which is why he doesn’t expect Oikawa to suddenly sit up with a soft frustrated groan and throw the comforter off in the darkness. Iwaizumi immediately shuts his eyes and pretends to sleep. He can hear Oikawa rustling a bit more on the bed, most likely getting up from it from the creak that was emitted, but there are no footsteps even after a minute. Iwaizumi frowns curiously, and shifts subtly to turn his head towards Oikawa’s direction, cracking his eyes open.

He isn’t prepared to see Oikawa’s face looming over his.

Oikawa shrieks at the same time that he does, feet tripping backwards and the back of his knee banging into the bed frame. “Ow—fuck—Iwa-chan!” he cries, voice hushed, clutching his leg.

Iwaizumi flicks the bedside lights on, hand on his chest, breathing hard in shock. “What the hell were you doing?!” he demands in a low whisper, not entirely sure why they’re speaking with lowered voices.

“You were snoring so loudly, I had to—“

“ _Oikawa_ ,” Iwaizumi grinds out. “I was awake. What were you doing,” he repeats flatly.

Under the dim light, Oikawa dips back into his bed and huddles underneath the comforter. He pouts. “…I can’t sleep, okay?”

Iwaizumi sighs, frustrated. He drags a palm over his face. “Can you just be honest?” he asks. “For once?”

There is a drawn out pause, in which Iwaizumi unconsciously swallows. It’s too dark to really tell, but somehow he gets the impression that Oikawa feels equally as tired as he does.

“…I’ve always been,” Oikawa says very quietly, brown eyes meeting his. “Honest.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow as the other turns away and rustles under the comforter. Oikawa yawns sleepily, lying back toward him. It takes a few seconds before he realises that Oikawa has no intention of continuing the conversation. He growls under his breath and crosses those few steps over, yanking the blanket away.

“What do you mean by that?” he prods, ignoring the whine that the other makes at the loss of cover.

“It means you never listen to me, Iwa-chan! Give it back—Iwa-chan, you meanie—“

“What do you mean I never listen to you?” Iwaizumi huffs. “You’re the one making ridiculous demands all the time!”

Oikawa somehow manages to get a hold of his blanket and uses whatever small edge of the fabric that he has to wrap between his arms as he props his legs up.

“I said can’t sleep without you,” he mutters, sounding bitter, which makes Iwaizumi freeze at the sudden change in countenance.

“…Okay,” Iwaizumi says very slowly. “Why can’t you sleep without me?”

There is no answer.

“Oikawa.”

Oikawa avoids his eyes. “It’s not enough,” the other says eventually. “To watch you.”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure what kind of answer he expected, but he didn’t expect this. It feels like the sentence is loaded with too many implications left unsaid—Oikawa-style. He’s vaguely aware that he’s scarcely breathing, eyebrows furrowed, while Oikawa reaches for him, trembling fingers finding that mark near his nape. Oikawa’s eyes are sharp, glinting under the dim light, nothing like the light smiles and grins he plasters on. The setter pauses, uncertain, but Iwaizumi makes no movement; he’s too busy trying to process what this all _means_.

In that time, Oikawa takes a slow breath, shuts his eyes and closes the distance between them.

* * *

**_Fin._ **


End file.
